Misadventure's at Freddy's (DISCONTINUED)
by AussieNick
Summary: Mike Schmidt is dead, Freddy and the gang are back to normal, and Freddy Fazbear's Pizza has new life. But their story isn't over. With new characters (and possibly animatronics?)), the Fazbear crew are in for plenty of surprises!
1. Chapter 1

**Well I promised it didn't I? Anyway,I feel like this is a great story and I promised a few people that I would continue the story. This is going to be a long-term project with a target of 20 chapters. If you like, submit story ideas to me in a PM and if I like it I'll give you a shout out in the next chapter!**

* * *

"_Three months on, police still have no leads on the disappearance of Mike Schmidt, who has not been seen since an incident at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Mike had almost finished his first week at the family-oriented restaurant when he allegedly shot his way out of the building, causing serious damage to the property, including the famous animatronic band. Gunfire and yelling was reportedly heard at the pizzeria for two nights, but the identity of the person's involved in the event remain a mystery. Manager of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, John Harrison, spoke to the press yesterday._

_"'We at Fazbear Entertainment ae deeply concerned for Mike's safety, and we are willing to aid the authorities in any way we can to ensure that Mike is found. The staff at Freddy's know Mike as a quiet but polite individual who kept mostly to himself. All of them have expressed their wishes for him to be found safe and unharmed.'_

_"The restaurant has seen a massive increase of customers and popularity since passing it's latest health inspection, and there are rumors that the Fazbear brand could spread all across the United States. Investigations at the main restaurant have concluded, and the chance of finding Mike Schmidt grows less and less likely by the day."_

"So they have no suspicions?" John asked, flicking off the TV with the remote.

"Why would they?" Caleb replied, "You buried Mike in a place where nobody could find him. Hell, there's probably nothing left of him now."

"I guess you're right," John sighed, rubbing his eyes and yawning, "God, I'm tired."

"You should go home," Caleb suggested, "This investigation is stressing you out. You need rest."

"I should check in on the band before I go," John mumbled, standing up, "It's been too long..."

"I'll check on them," Caleb offered, "They'll understand. You get home to your wife. She'll be worried sick."

John looked up at him with dark circles under his eyes.

"Gee, thanks Caleb," he said, "Alright then, I'm off. See you tomorrow."

And with that, he staggered out of the room.

Caleb quickly checked the office again. The monitor was fully charged, and ready for the night guard. The pump-action shotgun was locked in it's wall-mounted cage with the words FOR EMERGENCY printed in block letters below. And finally, the notice that John had printed earlier was on the desk next to the monitor, clearly visible. A single light kept the office illuminated, and since the increase in customers, they weren't on limited power after hours. Only the monitor, which was wireless, could lose power.

The janitors were just finishing up in the dining area and stage as Caleb walked out. The lights were all on, and most would remain on during the night. As Caleb looked around , he would always notice the much cleaner and brighter appearance of the restaurant compared to the dark and depressing vibe that had haunted the place since '87.

Two other workers, Zach and Ellie, were polishing Freddy's bare endoskeleton arm. He was out of action for a while after Mike shot him, but John now had reason to refit all four of them, including Foxy. Freddy, Foxy and Bonnie had new suits made, with brighter colouring and fur. In Chica's case, her suit had gold feathers.

"Hey Caleb," Ellie said casually, putting down the dirty rag she was using.

"Hey guys," Caleb replied, "I can take over here if you like."

"We'll be done in a sec," Zach told him with a wave of his hand, "Where's John?"

"He went home," Caleb told them, "He's been practically sleepwalking these past few days and he needs a few days off."

"Is he okay?" Zach asked, putting his rag down and frowning, "He's been really stressed out these past few days."

Uh-oh. Caleb hadn't thought about that.

"He's just worried about Mike, that's all," he lied quickly. John looked unconvinced.

"Well I can understand him being a bit concerned, but why treat it like such a tragedy? Mike was a total dick."

This last comment struck a nerve with Caleb.

"You know, just because someone can be a asshole at times doesn't mean it's less awful when they go missing," he said coldly to Zach, who looked offended.

"No, I don't mean it like-," he began, but a look from Ellie silenced him.

"Just... keep an eye on him," Ellie interrupted, "I don't want him to go too far over the edge. We don't want another Vince situation."

Zach cringed at the mention of his former friend, but stayed silent as the two of them left. Caleb walked over to Freddy and began to re-attach his suit arm.

"How are you, Freddy?" Caleb asked.

"Worried," came the reply, "John's in bad shape. We've all seen it."

"He'll be better after a good long rest," Caleb assured Freddy.

"Not if the police get any new leads on Mike," came a voice.

Caleb whirled around. Lurking behind the door in the shadows was Bonnie, who moved out into the light.

"What do you mean?" Caleb asked.

"How else will the police explain the gunshots that people heard?" Bonnie pointed out, "How will they explain why me and the band members were scattered all over the place. how will they explain why he shot Freddy? If someone were to discover that we're alive and conscious, then there's going to be a lot of rumors about this place flying about. And if people suspect something-"

'Then we go out of business and end up as scrap metal."

Chica had emerged from the back corner of the room, blending in with the yellow wallpaper.

"Don't be ridiculous," Caleb said, baffled, "John owns this place, and you guys. He would never abandon you guys."

"You're right," Bonnie admitted, "He wouldn't. But he actually doesn't own us. Fazbear Entertainment does. If this place shuts down because of rumors about us, then they'll jump at the chance to get rid of us."

Caleb pondered this for a moment, then realized that Bonnie was right. If anyone even suggested that one of the animatronics had a part in Mike's disappearance, self-aware or not, then they were fucked.

"I'm not gonna let that happen guys," Caleb told the three of them, "And neither will John."

* * *

Caleb came in the next day before the restaurant opened. As he entered, he saw the night guard, William, walk to his car.

"Hey Will!" Caleb called out, "How was your first night?"

Will turned around, and while he looked a bit shaken, gave Caleb a warm and genuine smile.

"Great!" he called back, "John wasn't kidding about the band!"

Caleb gave him and a nod and bid him goodbye before entering. Sunlight streamed into the mostly empty cafe. A few people were setting cutlery on the tables. Caleb said hello politely and went around the backstage area where Freddy, Bonnie and Chica were ready to perform.

"All set guys?" he asked them.

"Ready as always," Freddy confirmed.

"Caleb," Chica requested, "Do you think you could check on Foxy? He's been a bit moody these past few days."

"I don't blame him," Bonnie piped up, "Neglect does a lot to an animatronic."

Caleb couldn't help but think of Golden Freddy.

"I'll talk to him," he assured Chica.

Caleb left the backstage area and made his way to the front entrance, opposite which was the back of Pirate's Cove. John entered, closing the door behind him.

His eyes had to adjust for a moment, and as he began to make out the space he was in, he called out softly, "Foxy?"

Movement in the corner by the curtain caught his eye. Caleb made out the dark orange colour of Foxy's suit. His back was turned to Caleb, his head down. Caleb would have assumed he was turned off if he hadn't been shaking and breathing sounds hadn't been coming from his voice box.

"Caleb?" came his reply, turning his head slightly toward him. Caleb made out his snout and one eye.

"Foxy, what is it?" Caleb asked him.

"Caleb, it's...," Foxy struggled with his words, his voice sounding hollow and empty. Slowly, he turned around.

Caleb staggered backwards in horror, staring at Foxy in pure disbelief.

"Oh God, no. No, no, no, no! Not again!"

Running down Foxy's face from his other eye was a mixture of blood and mucus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! 2 reviews right off the bat? Nice! Thanks for your support guys. I'm glad to know that there are people out there reading my stories! Enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

"Foxy, wha... how the hell...?" Caleb sputtered.

"I don't know," replied Foxy, "A fe wdays ago I suddenly felt tense, like something bad was about to happen. Then I started leaking."

"Something bad?" Caleb questioned, "Any idea what?"

"Only that someone will get killed."

The mere thought of this caused blood to drip from Foxy's snout.

"Okay," Caleb said, regaining his composure, "I'll call John. He'll know what to do."

Before Caleb left, Foxy made one last request.

"Caleb?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't tell Chica."

It struck Caleb as odd that Foxy specifically mentioned Chica, but he agreed not to tell her before going to the office and dialing John's number. It rang for at least a minute before John picked up, and he sounded half-asleep when he answered.

"Urggh, hello?"

"John?"

"Caleb?" John asked sleepily, "What exactly was so important that it couldn't wait until I got a good night's sleep?"

"John, I need you to come into work as soon as you can," Caleb said quickly, checking the hallways in case someone was coming, "I think something bad's about to happen."

"What?" John murmured, "What makes you say that? Is everything okay?"

"Foxy's suit is leaking blood."

"Again?!" John exclaimed, now wide awake, "When did it start?"

"A few days ago, according to him."

"Fuck! Okay, I'll be there in half an hour. Don't let the place open until I get there," he instructed, "Lock all the doors and don't let anyone in or out, got it?"

"Got it," Caleb replied, getting only a clicking sound as a reply. He put the phone down, grabbed the keys to the building and moved as fast as he could without running. He made it to the dining area just as William walked in through the front doors.

"Hey Caleb, I just left my wallet..." he stopped when he saw Caleb's face, "Caleb, you okay?"

Caleb's mind seemed to work in slow motion as he tried to find a response.

"Uh... yeah, just fine. It's just... John wants me to lock down the building. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"What?" William said with a confused expression, "What is this? What's going on?"

"William, I'm sorry, but John asked me to. I'm just doing my job."

"Can I just get my wallet? You can watch me. It's in the office," Will asked.

Caleb pondered the offer for a moment.

"Okay, but quickly. Hey Jenny! Can you lock the doors until John gets here? Okay, thanks."

Caleb led William to the office where he retrieved his wallet from the desk. Outside, he heard a commotion.

"What the hell's going on out there?" he said aloud as the two of them rushed to the dining room. Jenny, a young waitress at the pizzeria, was holding the doors firmly shut and shaking her head at three men on the other side. All three wore suits and one was holding up a badge.

"Jenny, what's going on?" Caleb asked her.

"These men want in, but I was waiting for your ok before I let them in," she explained, one hand still holding the doors shut.

"Yeah, they're police. Just let them in," Caleb told her. Nodding, Jenny let go of the door handles and allowed the men to enter.

"Is there a problem, officers?" Caleb asked cautiously.

"Is the manager of this establishment here?" asked the man with a badge. His black fedora kept his face in partial shadow.

"No, he'll be here in a few minutes," replied Caleb.

'Good, go about your business as we wait."

The three men made a beeline for a table close to the show stage.

"But officer," explained Caleb as they walked, "I've been told not to open until our manager gets here."

"Do you know why?' one of the officers questioned.

"No. I was only told to put the building on lockdown."

"Then open as usual."

"But sir-" Caleb protested.

"Are you questioning authority, son?" one of the officers challenged, standing up. Caleb noticed that everyone in the room was watching.

"No, sir," Caleb replied.

"Then open as usual or we'll have to take you in."

The man sat down, and Caleb turned to the bystanders.

"Well? You heard him. Get to work!" he snapped, storming off.

* * *

Caleb watched in utter fury as customers filled the pizzeria. John was nowhere to be seen, but the three officers, or detectives or whatever they were, didn't seem bothered.

This confused Caleb. Something was off here, he could tell. Just then, William passed him.

"Will," Caleb asked quietly, "I need you to get the shotgun from the office."

"What for?" asked Will suspiciously.

"Something's not right with those cops over there," Caleb jerked a thumb towards the "police", "Get the gun and lock yourself in the office. If you see anything happening on the cameras, get your ass out here. You'll probably no what to do then."

"Okay," William said repeatedly, "Okay. Have you got a gun?"

"No, just a pocket knife. It's not much but it's effective. Now go!"

Caleb heard the doors of the office lock as the three men stood up. Cautiously, he made is way to their table.

"I'm sorry officers, I don't know where John is."

"No matter," one of the men said, "One less person is no big deal."

Caleb saw it coming, and ducked to the left as the man lunged at him, only for one of his companions to seize him, throw him to the floor and handcuff him. Meanwhile, the other men were on their feet and loading semi-automatic weapons.

"Everybody stay in your seats!" one of them yelled, firing a burst of rounds into the ceiling.

There was a mixture of screaming, chairs scraping across the floor and running footsteps. Caleb was pulled up by his shirt collar, and felt a gun barrel pressed into the side of his head. Two others were placed on either side of him, whimpering and fearful, as William watched on, John's shotgun aimed at a space above Caleb.

"Drop your weapons!" William shouted.

"You drop yours!" Caleb's hostage-taker commanded.

"I will kill this one!" he added, kicking Caleb in the back and pressing the gun against the back of his head.

"Then I will kill you!" William shot back.

"And we'll kill you and these others!" another man sneered, "Now, drop. Your. Weapon!"

William switched between the three gunmen, unsure of what to do. Then, he slowly lowered the gun and threw it to the floor, putting his hands behind his back. A gunman came forward, handcuffed him, and kicked him to the floor.

"Everybody pay close attention," the "leader" gunman project his voice through the dining room, "This is an armed robbery. We have multiple weapons at our disposal, so don't even think about trying to escape. If we receive an adequate amount of money, either by ransom or from this building, we will allow you to return to your homes and families, provided that the police are willing to cooperate with us."

I was carted off into the office along with the rest of the employees by the leader gunman. As he turned to us after locking the door, I saw that he had a scar running through his left eye.

"Listen very closely," he growled, "At least one of you has information that my employer wants. If you want your co-workers to live through the day, then you WILL tell me."

"How about you?" Scar-eye said to William, pulling him up to the desk and pinning him down.

"Tell me your name."

"William."

"Well, William. Tell me, do you know anything about the fate of one Mike Schmidt?"

I froze, and my eyes must have went wide, but luckily Scar-eye wasn't looking.

_Oh. Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

"W-what?" William stuttered, "I don't-"

Scar-eye hoisted him upright and then slammed him back down to the table. William groaned.

"Lying is not going to get you anywhere, William. You want to make it out of here, I take it?"

William said nothing.

"WELL?" boomed Scar-eye.

"Y-yes," William breathed.

Then tell me, where is Mike Schmidt?"

"I swear, I don't know!" William burst out, managing to lift himself off the table slightly.

"You're just making this worse on yourself," Scar-eye growled, pulling something out of his coat pocket. Caleb saw a small, crudely made knife.

"William, do you see this knife?" Scar-eye asked, holding it in front of his face, "See how jagged the blade is? The pain of it sliding into your body will be excruciating enough, but the jagged edges will cut open the flesh as it enters and leaves, doing even more damage. If I were to apply this to a certain part-"

He didn't even have to finish. William began struggling in vain as he was placed on his back.

"Please, no! Please God no! I don't know anything!" William begged, struggling and kicking as Scar-eye fished his wallet out of his pants pocket. He opened it, and withdrew a picture of William with a pretty girl, both of them smiling and hugging.

"Pretty girl, eh?" Scar-eye taunted, "Well, let's see if she won't leave you for someone... "whole" after today."

Caleb realised right at that moment what Scar-eye was going to do.

"STOP!" Caleb screamed. Scar-eye turned to him slowly.

"You got something to say?" he said simply.

"Let him go!" Caleb snapped.

Then tell me-"

Caleb couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"HE'S DEAD! YOU GOT THAT? MIKE SCHMIDT IS DEAD!"

There was a shocked silence. The workers in the room gaped at me. Even William, who was breathing heavily and had tears in his eyes.

"Dead?" Scar-eye said.

"Dead, and buried," Caleb confirmed.

Scar-eye slowly released William, who collapsed to the floor.

"How long," he hissed.

"Three months."

"Who did it?"

Caleb was silent for a moment. What could he say? That a living animatronic bear had killed him in the name of justice?

"I don't know," he finally said.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Scar-eye interrogated, his eyes narrowing.

"I wasn't told who."

"So you weren't there?"

"No. I only got told a few days later."

"Where is the body?"

Uh-oh, what would he say here?

"Only one person knows that," Caleb told him, "And he's not here."

* * *

John quickened his pace as he saw the small crowd at the front entrance of the restaurant. it wasn't good for business, closing like this out of nowhere. The sooner they got this sorted out and could open the better.

"Sorry about this folks, just some-"  
Then he stopped. Through the glass doors he saw customers, all sitting down in their seats, vacant expressions on their faces. One man was walking around, a gun in his hand.

"What the hell is this?" he said aloud, banging on the door. A few people inside looked at him, terrified, mouthing something.

"Sorry folks," John turned to the crowd, "We're closed for the day. I'm going to have to ask everybody to leave."

There were a few irritated remarks, but most of them seemed to know that something very serious was going on. Giving one last look to the terrified customers, he made his way around the back of the building.

There was a window in the storage closet around the back of the building. He tried the back door, but it seem barricaded from the inside. Then he heard tapping. Looking over, he saw Ellie, a worker, holding up some kind of sign, tears in her eyes. John moved closer, and saw words on the sign.

CALL THE POLICE.

His eyes widened, and he nodded, wasting no time in pulling out his cell phone and dialling 911.

"Hello, 911. What is your emergency?" the female operator asked.

"I'm at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and the front doors ar locked. All the customers inside are being held by at least one man with a gun."

"Right, how many hostages?"

"30 or so, possibly more. A worker just held a sign up to the back window saying the call the police. All the doors and windows are locked."

"Okay sir. We're sending three units out to you right now. Please stay on the line."

* * *

Sirens blared through the streets as the three police cruisers screeched to a halt in front of the parking lot. John waved over to the officers from the side of the building as they got out of their cars, clad in black uniforms.

"Are you the caller sir?" one of them asked.

"Yes officer," John said quickly, "I'm the manager of the place and I came to work to find all the doors locked. I saw a man walking around with a shotgun."

The officers peered in, observing the scene. The gunman was out of sight.

"Alright, sir. I'll have to ask you to move out of the park lot."

John was ushered out of the parking lot as more units arrived in a black police truck, heavily armored. Police surrounded the building, directing civilians away from the area, managing the news vans which had just arrived, and sending snipers into the office building across the street. John was forced to stay at the entrance to the parking lot, which was blocked off by police barricades. From his vantage point, all he could see were shadows of people moving within the restaurant.

* * *

Caleb and the other employees were moved back out into the dining area, and were forced to sit at an empty table. The tables were moved closer together to minimize any chances of running, spare tablecloths were hung over the windows, blocking out most of the sunlight. Scar-eye ordered the employees to escort customers to the bathrooms in groups of two at a time. Everybody wearing a uniform had a job, except Caleb.

"Come with me," barked Scar-eye, picking Caleb up by his arm.

He led Caleb back down the hallway into the office, locking the door behind him. He sat Caleb down in the office chair and used duct tape to secure his arms and legs.

"You say Schmidt is dead?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you don't know where the body is?"

"That's right."

"Do you know why he was killed?"

"He used to molest children here," Caleb told him. Scar-eye raised an eyebrow.

"That so?"

"That's what I was told."

"And who told you?"

"My manager."

"Did your manager bury Mike Schmidt?"

"Yes."

"Why isn't he here?"

"He wasn't meant to be working today. I called him and told him we needed him here."

"Why do you need him?"

There's a problem with one of the animatronics," said Caleb.

"Where is it?"

"I'll show you."

Caleb led Scar-eye to the back door to Pirates Cove.

"In here," Caleb pointed to the door.

Scar eye marched in front of him. Why he wanted to see the animatronics was beyond Caleb, who hoped that Foxy would have heard the commotion and been ready to bite his head off. Scar-eye had his hand on the doorknob, then turned it.

It was jammed.

As he struggled with the door, Caleb's head whirled around. The back door was unguarded, and all he'd need to do was unlock it and bolt out. Looking back, he saw Scar-eye swearing as the doorknob refused to move. Then Caleb darted away from him, clutching the lock, turning it, and in a second he had thrown the door open and was out the door and sprinting around to the front of the cafe.

* * *

John was about to move to the other side of the parking lot when he saw a figure in the Freddy's uniform darting around the left side of the building and into a police officer. Both crashed to the ground. Officers moved in, guns drawn, as the man put his hands on his head and waited. As they picked the hostage up, John saw his face.

"Caleb!" he couldn't help but call out. Caleb turned to the sound and his eyes widened as they saw John. The police ushered for John to come over, and John ducked between the barricades and ran right over to them.

"Sir, do you know this man?" one of the officers asked, gesturing to Caleb.

"Yes, he's an employee," John confirmed. The officer turned to Caleb.

"What's your name, son?"

"Caleb."

"Okay Caleb, I need you to tell us slowly what's happening in there."

"There are three gunmen, each wearing suits, and they've all got fake police badges and automatic weapons. One of them has a scar on his eye."

"Okay, how many hostages?" 

'Thirty or so. Employees and customers. They have children in there too."

"Okay, that's enough for now. Go over to the ambulance and get checked out." 

John led Caleb to the waiting ambulance at the far end of the parking lot. It's back doors were open, and a female EMT was waiting.

"Okay just take a seat here," she said. Caleb sat down on a stretcher.

A few minutes later, the EMT declared Caleb fine.

"Mind if I have a word with him for a moment?" John asked. She nodded, and John led Caleb across the street.

"Caleb," he said slowly, "What do these guys want?"

"Schmidt," Caleb said weakly, just now comprehending that he was safe, "They're looking for Mike." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! So sorry for the long wait. I've had a lot on my plate recently and I've been struggling to make time to write. I'm working to sort things out, but I can't promise anything at the moment. **

**Good news is that I've only got one more week of school and then I'll be on holidays for the next two weeks, so hopefully I'll be able to update more regularly. Thanks for all your patience!**

* * *

The crowds departed, the surrounding buildings were evacuated, and the police had the entire area locked down. Back inside, one of the gunmen was on the phone. It sounded like the police.

"I don't want anyone in here to die, but I've got a family of my own to look out for," he was saying. He was the youngest of the group. Maybe 25 or so. he paused. There was a voice on the other end.

"I can't say anything without my employer's OK first. No, nobody's been harmed."

There was another pause.

"I can't control what he does, nor do I get any notice first. I'll make sure he doesn't harm any of the hostages."

The voice was talking again, but he couldn't make out what it was saying.

"Okay, okay," the gunman said slowly, "I'll try and restrain him, but it's very risky. He's willing to risk it? Okay then. Send him in when you're ready."

The gunman moved away from the curtain and Foxy scurried backward.

* * *

Caleb and John were needed at the office building across the street. The police had a plan, and if it worked they'd have two people on the inside. The two of them were taken to an empty conference room where a few detectives and officers were waiting.  
One of them shook both their hands and said, "I'm detective Nathan Walsh. We think we have a plan ready."

They sat down, and he ran them through it.

"We've got a gunman inside who's been making calls to us, giving us updates from inside the cafe. We think he may have intended do betray his companions from the start.

"The problem is, though, that's he's limited in what he can say. All three of them are being monitored. They must be part of a very powerful crime group. So we need a man on the inside."

He looked at Caleb.

"On come on!" Caleb protested.

"You're the best option we have," Walsh replied, "John's too important to them and sending someone random in would be too suspicious. You're the only one who has any hope of getting back in there."

Caleb looked at John. He had his hands on the table, his head down. There wouldn't be any support here. Caleb didn't blame him. There wasn't any other option.

"Okay," he finally said, "I'll do it."

* * *

There was a knock on the back door. Foxy heard it from Pirate's Cove peeked through the ajar door. Scar-eye came and unbolted the door before opening it to reveal... Caleb.

"You have a lot of fucking nerve kid," Scar-eye said before yanking Caleb inside and shutting the door. Caleb stumbled out of Foxy's line of site, but by the sound of it he fell on the floor. There was the sound of running feet.

There was a commotion in front of Pirate's Cove and Foxy scrambled to the curtain. Caleb was on the ground in front of him, holding his arm over himself. The other hostages were silent, looking away from the scene. Scar-eye was standing over him, with a look of fury that shocked even Foxy, someone who spent years living with bitter hatred.

"Dude, stop!" the gunman from before was saying. Trying to hold Scar-eye back.

"This little bitch decides to just run off and then he has the nerve to just come back like it's all okay," Scar-eye ranted, "We need to control these people, Luke!"

"I didn't run," Caleb broke in, "I was standing by the door when it opened and I got grabbed!"

"Bullshit!" Scar-eye spat, "You expect me to believe that!"

"I came back!" Caleb shouted, "I don't want anyone in here to die!"

"Boss, he's here now, isn't he?" the one called Luke reasoned, "Besides, we can't just kill him without the big boss's O-K!"

Scar-eye breathed heavily, then said to Caleb, "One more issue with you, and you're dead."

He ran his thumb across his throat.

Luke pulled him up and led him away. He was saying something, but Foxy couldn't hear what.

* * *

Scar-eye left the dining room, leaving Caleb on the floor. He sighed in relief.

"Get up," Luke said, pulling him onto his feet, "Follow me."

He led Caleb away from the dining room around to the back door to Pirate's Cove.

"In here," he said, opening the door. Then Caleb saw something he did not want to see: Foxy. Standing by the curtain, staring at them like a deer caught in headlights.

A shout of surprise was almost out of Luke's mouth before Caleb pulled him in and shut the door, holding a hand over his mouth. Luke tried to say something, but Caleb kept his hand firmly over Luke's mouth.

"Listen, I know this looks strange, but I can explain. I need you to stay quiet, okay?"

Luke looked at him, then nodded.

"Okay, I'm gonna take my hand away now," Caleb said before removing his hand. Luke sat up and stared at Foxy, who moved in closer.

"What the hell are you?" he whispered.

"I'm that ugly, am I?" Foxy said sarcastically.

"This is Foxy," Caleb told Luke, "He's one of the animatronics here."

"'He'?" Luke asked, "They're alive? All four of them?"

"Five," Foxy corrected.

"What?" said Caleb.

"Golden Freddy," Foxy said, "John didn't tell you? he's Freddy's brother. Hides in the kitchen."

"I've never seen him before," Caleb said, shaking his head. Luke stood up and started pacing.

"This is weird," he murmured.

"It was weird for me too," Caleb assured him.

"Yeah, he pissed himself when he saw Freddy," Foxy said. If he could, he'd probably have been smirking. Caleb gave him the finger.

"Don't worry though," Caleb turned to Luke, "They're friendly. They won't hurt you if you're on our side."

"What about that other one. Golden Freddy?" asked Luke.

"Don't count on it, "Foxy said grimly, "Golden Freddy was the suit Mike Schmidt used to murder kids here. He rarely talks to us anymore."

Luke said nothing for a moment. He seemed lost in his thoughts. Finally, he spoke.

"The others, they're behind the curtain out there?"

Caleb nodded.

"Okay, I'm gonna have a talk with them. Caleb, stay here with Foxy. If anyone asks, I locked you in here."

* * *

**So I know this was a short chapter. I just wanted to let you guys know that I haven't abandoned this story and I don't intend to and that I'll be able to update more regularly soon. I also want to say that this whole "hostage crisis" storyline will be over soon and the story will be moving on to shorter storylines within the next few chapters. Thank you guys so much for your patience!**


	5. Chapter 5

Freddy, Bonnie and Chica had no choice but to remain silent and listen to the commotion outside. At one point, the door had opened then closed, and Bonnie thought he saw a man's head out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't see for sure.

Then, as the sun began to set and the lights went on, the door opened again, then shut. But this time it was different. Somebody was in the room with them. Then a voice said softly, "Hello?"

Bonnie turned his head. A man was looking back at him, frowning.

"Oh my God," he said, "Are-are you..."

"Alive," Freddy said before Bonnie could, "Oh yes. Now tell me, what's going on out there?"

* * *

The door opened about then minutes later. Caleb turned around. Luke was back. He shut the door behind him.

"We've got a plan," he said.

Luke ran them through his idea. The main lights in the pizzeria would shut off at 11:40 PM. Before then, Luke would lead Caleb into the dining room with the rest of the hostages. When Luke would go to check on the hostages, he would say, "Get ready to run when the lights go out. Keep this to yourself."

Caleb would shoot the second gunman (Eddie, his name was, according to Luke) while the hostages ran. Before all that, Luke would ensure that Scar-eye was near the show stage, and then Freddy and Bonnie would corner him while Chica and Foxy blocked the entrances. When the police saw the hostages bolt out the door, they'd likely come running.

"Here's a gun," Luke said, handing Caleb a revolver, "Be ready to fire. Keep track of Eddie at all times."

They had a plan. now they had to wait.

* * *

Luke came back a few hours later.

"Showtime," he said. Caleb followed him out, and they got into position, with Luke holding onto his arm.

Luke marched him out and sat him down firmly at a seat at the back of the dining room, meters away from Eddie, who paced back and forth with a shotgun. Luke then began pacing the room, checking for weapons and whispering instructions to run like hell. Caleb grasped the revolver in his pocket by the handle. He checked the clock above the door.

_11:38. _

Eddie continued to pace back and forth. Then, he turned around and spotted Caleb with his hand in his pocket.

_Oh shit, _Caleb thought. He glanced at the clock.

_11:39. _

Eddie's pace quickened. He brought the gun up. Caleb got his gun ready.

_11.40. _

They were plunged into darkness. Caleb sprang up, brought his gun up, and fired blindly. Behind him, plates shattered, chairs were knocked over, and dozens of pairs of feet bolted for the door.

Eddie fired at exactly the same time as he did. Both shots narrowly missed their targets. Caleb's shot whizzed past Eddie's ear and took out a light. Eddie's shot obliterated the table where Caleb had been sitting moments before. Eddie swung his shotgun like a bat, and Caleb ducked and ran into him. Both men went sprawling to the floor.

But something else wasn't right. There were a series of loud bangs. Then gunfire. Caleb punched Eddie once then rolled under a table, covering his ears. Most of the lights went out, and the gunfire illuminated the scene like lights being switched on and off repeatedly. He saw Eddie move slightly, but he looked to be in some state between consciousness and unconsciousness. Caleb looked around. There were men clad in tactical gear over by Pirate's Cove, guns up, firing in the direction of the show stage. The curtains were moving. Scar-eye kicked over a table and ducked out of sight of the police, occasionally firing blindly.

Then Caleb saw him. Nothing more than a dark shape crawling low around Scar-eye. Then pouncing, knocking his prey into the table and pinning him to the floor. Flashlight beams shone on the scene as the police moved in. Foxy was on top of Scar-eye, who struggled in vain to break free of Foxy's hold on his wrists. The police surrounded them, and Foxy moved off him as the police pinned him down and cuffed him. Then the main lights came back on. The shutters came down on the windows and doors. Then the alarm went off. A loud ringing. Caleb looked around the room. Eddie was gone. Apart from the police, Scar-eye, Caleb and the animatronics, there was nobody in the room.

"Get those doors open!" someone ordered.

"I- I can open it," Caleb called out, rising slowly from the floor.

The police turned around, guns pointed at him. Caleb put his hands up.

"Harrison, deal with him," one of the police ordered. An officer clad in back armor approached him.

"Sir, we're the police. You're safe now," he said, "Can you open the doors for us?"

"In the spare parts room," Caleb replied, pointing, "I'll have to shut the power down."

"That's fine," Harrison assured him, "Lead the way."

Caleb led Harrison to the back room. At the very back was a lever. Harrison kept his gun up at all times, but Caleb felt no danger. He put his hand on the lever, and looked back. Harrison nodded. Caleb pushed the lever down. The lights went out, all of them this time. Caleb was plunged into darkness for a second before Harrison turned on his flashlight.

"Okay, follow me out."

Harrison led Caleb by the arm into the dining area, then out the front doors. His legs suddenly felt heavy. His vision blurred into a mess of flashing blue and red. Then he fell sideways and collapsed in the parking lot.

* * *

Three months later, John got the keys handed back to him.

The police had conducted the investigation, interviewed Luke, Caleb, and all the hostages, and then had the keys to the building delivered to John. The animatronics were stuck inside the pizzeria until then.

The two of them visited the boarded-up restaurant the next day. John threw up the metal barrier over the entrance (it probably had a name, but Caleb couldn't recall it) and unlocked the front doors.

The dining area of the pizzeria was dark and eerie. What Caleb hadn't noticed before leaving was how much damage had been done. The stage curtains were shredded by bullets. The table that Scar-eye had taken cover behind hadn't been moved. And neither had Foxy. He was still sitting there, staring at the table.

"Oh Christ!" John exclaimed, running over to him, "Foxy? Can you move?"

Foxy remained still.

"Oh God. No, no no no. His servos must have locked up!"

Then, Foxy's eyes opened and he looked at John.

"Gotcha."

"Goddamn it Foxy!" John yelled, half angry, half relieved.

"C'mon, it's just a bit of fun!" Foxy said, but there was guilt in his voice, "These joints have been stiff for months you know. I've been here standing here for two months."

"Two?" Caleb interrupted, "It's been three months."

"I did a bit of wandering around after the cops left for good. I found something. Come see."

Foxy ran to the other side of the room, where Caleb and Eddie had wrestled. There was a massive hole in the wall.

Eddie must have fired at the wall when you took him down," Foxy told Caleb, "There's something behind the wall."

John and Caleb pried the plaster away, then the wooden boards. A beam of light shone into the opening. Caleb looked to his side. Foxy was standing upright, holding a flashlight. They entered.

John coughed. The air was full of dust. They were in a small rectangular room. It was filled with large wooden boxes.

"Oh no. No no no no no," whispered John.

"John," Caleb said cautiously, "What is this place?"

"No, no no! This is bad."

John began to hurry around the room, checked the boxes. Caleb checked one too. On it was the Fazbear Entertainment logo. Except it was different. Freddy had a rounder body, his top hat had a red stripe. Chica was thinner, and she wore a smaller bib. And then there was... well, Clabe guessed it was Bonnie. But he was completely different. He was light blue, he had a guitar, and he looked more like a rabbit, while Caleb had first mistaken him for a hippo with bunny ears when he first saw him.

The box to Caleb's right had a large hole in the center. Caleb peered inside. There was an animatronic, or at least a suit. It had a golden body, but it was dirty and tattered in places. There were holes in it's arms and torso. It had a round head with it's teeth showing, and long yellow ears.

Caleb felt someone watching him and he turned around. John stood in front of him, his eyes wide.

"You weren't meant to see this," he whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Caleb followed the others into the living room, making no eye contact with John. Zach and Ellie made room for him on the three-seater couch. The rest of the employees found a spot in the room. Over by the door, on the two small couches, against the wall. There were twenty-five of them in all, excluding John. Waiters, cooks, janitors, and maintenance workers. It was extremely cramped. Caleb was torn; he didn't want to sit in this cramped position any longer than he had too, but he wasn't looking forward to talking to John. Every since they found the hidden room, simply being in the same room was awkward.

"Thanks for letting us use your house, John," Ellie spoke up after a tense silence.

"It wasn't any trouble," John said stiffly.

"Your wife isn't bothered?" Zach asked.

"She's not here," John replied, "She's in Maine visiting relatives.

"So, let's get down to business. I've looked at every cranny of the building, and it can be restored, and it won't cost much. But that doesn't mean the place isn't ageing. It's been in use since '89, and it shows. The technology dates back to the 70's, and it's small considering how many customers we get. We were hardly surviving when we re-opened, and we hardly drew in any income. Lately, we've had to turn away a few customers because the place was full. So, I've found a new building that we could use. It's got far more space and it's a mostly crime-free area. I haven't bought the place yet, because you guys deserve to have a say in what's happening. So, Zach, what do you think?"

"I think we should move," Zach admitted, "but keep the building. We could use it for storage."

"The buildings are a fair distance apart, just so you're aware," John told him.

"In that case, what use is their for the old building?" Ellie pointed out, "According to John, space isn't a problem, and the neighborhood it's in is just shit. Why keep the place?"

"Caleb," John asked, "What do you think?"

Caleb looked up. John was looking back at him, his expression unreadable.

"Does it matter? he finally said.

"What do you mean?" John replied, narrowing his eyes.

"You know what I mean, Caleb told him, "Does it matter what we think? Or what anyone thinks? You'll do it your way regardless."

John looked disappointed.

"You really wanna have this argument now?" he asked, sighing.

"No. I'm just saying it how it is."

"Anyone else have anything to add?" John asked the crowd. Nobody said a word.

"It's settled then. I'll give you guys a call when we start moving. Thanks for coming tonight guys."

Everybody filed about, but John motioned for me to stay. When the last person had left, he sighed.

"Why did you do that to me, Caleb?" he said, shaking his head.

"They have a right to know," Caleb replied firmly.

"It's for their own good that they don't know," John replied.

"John, those things are dangerous!" Caleb pointed out, rising off the couch, "Do you have any idea what happens if they find out themselves?"

"They won't," John retorted, "And they can't. Word cannot get out that the old animatronics weren't destroyed. We don't need more bad publicity with the police still searching for Mike."

"Then destroy them!" Caleb told him.

"Do you really think I haven't tried?" John said, his voice rising, "I tried many times after that place shut down. I tried everything. Crushing them, burning them, dumping them in acid. I even tried to just take them apart like I would for maintenance. But ever since the Bite, and what happened with the children, they won't come apart. I swear it.

"Eventually I gave up and locked them underground. They remained offline and never caused trouble. If there was a way to destroy them, I'd do it. But there isn't. There's something not right about those animatronics, Caleb. They're not normal."

Caleb was silent for a few moments.

"Alright then, is there anything else I should know?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"There is... one thing," John said hesitantly, "But it's crazy."

"John, I found out four months ago that those animatronics were somehow alive. I can't rule out jack shit these days."

"Back in the 80's, the company was trying to make the animatronics seem more lifelike, and one way they did that was by making the endoskeletons hidden behind the mascot costumes. We made a successful prototype that went into service in '84. It had a few different names, but most of the staff called it "the Marionette".

"The weird thing is, after the Bite we never saw it again. The next day, police found the body of our nightguard, Jeremy, in the office. His throat was slit and the Marionette's mask was placed on his face. We never found the rest of it."

"Are you saying...?" Caleb began.

"That the Marionette is alive?" finished John, "I think so, and I think it's in control of the old animatronics. I'm sorry that I never came clean about this, to you or the band, but I thought that it wouldn't be an issue anymore. I didn't want to worry you."

"I wish you would have told me sooner," Caleb admitted, "But I know that you were doing what you thought was best. I'm soryr I was so harsh on you."

Caleb offered John his hand, and John shook it slowly.

"I'll give you a call when we get things up and running again," John said, "And Caleb, thanks, for understanding."

* * *

It was four and a half months before Caleb heard anything again. He visited the band in the old building from time to time. But one day, he found them gone. He checked the whole building, but it was completely abandoned. Then, as he reached for his cell phone to call John, he heard a voice behind him.

"They've already been moved."

Caleb whirled around. John was standing by the show stage.

"We're reopening in two weeks. I had the band moved over to the new location," he told Caleb, "We're using this place for storage."

"Storage of what?" asked Caleb.

"The old mascots are coming with us," John said, "I don't want someone breaking in and finding those things. We'll use this building for parts and stuff."

He wandered around the dining room, apparently reminiscing.

"You never did meet the guy who started this place, did you?" he said, looking around. Caleb shook his head.

"I think you mentioned him once. Built Freddy and the others, right?"

"That's right. He didn't know how they were alive either. At least that's what he said. I've been thinking about getting in touch with him. There's something about the animatronics. They're so strong and mature, but in a way a teenager would be if they were forced into a situation they weren't prepared for."

"John," Caleb said cautiously, "What are you suggesting?" 

John stopped wandering, and looked at him.

"Caleb, I think those animatronics used to be something else. Think about it. Even though they have bodies made of metal, they can still understand and feel emotion. Pain, loss, happiness, anger. Things that every human is capable of."

"John, this is crazy."

" Is it?" John asked, "How else could they think and feel like humans without being human? Caleb, face it; they weren't artificially created. They were _born."_

* * *

**So hi guys. I'm sorry that there's not much too this chapter ,but I want you guys to get an understanding of what this story will be about. Things are going to pick up the pace very soon.**

**I'd also like to ask you guys to sometime check out my first original story; Walton's Ship, on . I'm really excited to start my own original concept and it would be awesome if you guys could give me some feedback. Don't worry though, I'll continue to do work here on and I won't be abandoning my current stories here anytime soon. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys. I am so sorry that I haven't been updating regulary. It's been an eventful couple of weeks for me, and things have been a bit hectic. I'm settling in though, so hopefully things will change. Thank you guys so much for your patience!**

* * *

The crowds filed into the new building as employees opened the doors for the first time. Kids cheered, holding onto their parent's hands. Caleb watched from the parking lot. He was back in his Fazbear's uniform, and back at work, but things were bittersweet.

They'd gotten involved in something very dangerous. And there was still a solemn atmosphere as the team had prepared to open earlier that morning. John and Caleb stayed out of each other's way for the most part. After what John kept from him, it would be awhile before things truly went back to normal.

"Hey Caleb!" a voice called. Caleb whirled around.

"Luke?" Caleb called out back, squinting at the figure a short distance away, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"The police let me off!" Luke said happily, grinning, "It wasn't easy, but we cooked up a decent story for the press and I didn't get charged. What about you? Been okay?"

"Could be worse," Caleb replied, smiling weakly.

"John told me things have been awkward," Luke admitted, his smile fading, "I don't know all the details, but I know enough. He shouldn't have hid a secret like that from you, but he was just trying to do what was right. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Caleb said sadly, "It'll just take awhile for things to go back to normal."

"It's gonna take more than awhile," Luke said, glancing around, "Walk with me, we gotta talk."

Luke led Caleb away from the restaurant. It was a chilly day. The sky was grey and cloudy, and rain had been predicted. Caleb followed Luke down the road to a small park. They both sat down on a bench. Apart from them and a few birds, the place was empty.

"It's time I told you why I was with those guys," said Luke, "Caleb, you should know that what I'm telling you will put you in a lot of danger, so if you don't wanna hear it, say so now."

"If I learnt anything from the standoff four months ago, it's that I'm already in danger. So spit it out."

"Alright," Luke said, "I came from a poor family, Caleb. My dad never finished school, and it was very difficult for him to make a living. Just supporting him and my mother was hard enough, but they had me and my sister to feed as well. Eventually, my dad didn't have any other choice. Our neighborhood was being torn to shreds by gang warfare, and my dad ended up joining one of them. Can't remember the name. "The Saints" or some bullshit.

"They weren't like other gangs, from what I remember. They saw themselves more as vigilantes than criminals, and they did a lot to clean up the streets. My dad became a respected lieutenant, which made him a target. One night, a bunch of rival street thugs turned up at our house. My dad's gang got word that we'd been targeted and wanted to warn him, but their leader said no.

"They went behind him, though, and scrambled to send backup. They were too late though. By the time they showed up, my father and mother had been shot dead, my sister had been kidnapped, and I'd been shot in the stomach. They found me in the bathroom, unconscious and bleeding. They ran off with me, patched me up, and told me what happened. I was only eleven. One of the guys, who'd betrayed the gang, told me that one day, we'd take revenge. His name was Walter Schmidt, Mike Schmidt's brother."

"What?" Caleb replied, "You knew Mike Schmidt?"

"I knew of him," Luke corrected, "I'd only met him a couple times. He came to my rescue though, and I thanked him and the others for saving me. We all started our own gang, and became absurdly rich and powerful, but Mike couldn't take the heat. The coward left the gang, and ended up working at Freddy's."

"Jesus Christ," Caleb said, "Luke, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Luke replied, "What matter right now is that the gang is still powerful, and when Walter lost contact with Mike, he suspected that he'd been killed, so he sent me and two others to find out what happened.

"I tried to talk him out of it, saying that we shouldn't be taking innocent lives to find Mike, but he wouldn't listen. He told us to find him, and any cost. So he sent me and those two other fuckers to track him down. So I took a risk, and betrayed the gang. Now, Walter Schmidt wants my head delivered to him."

"You're sure?"

"I know for certain. He sent a text message to my apartment after the standoff at the old building. He wants me dead."

"Does John know?" Caleb asked.

"I told him a few months ago. He's letting me crash at his place. I've got a fake I.D, but I don't know how long I'll be able to avoid Schmidt. Either way, we're in deep shit."

"We'll handle it," Caleb said, "We've been through so much already, we'll help you out, Luke."

* * *

The new building wasn't massive, but it had a lot more packed into it. The front doors opened into the main dining hall where the band performed. The walls were covered in the typical white, blue, black and red wallpaper from the old building. The floor consisted of blue and red tiles, and the roof was twice as high as in old building. Across from the doors, at the opposite end of the room, was the stage. The purple curtains were drawn, and Bonnie and Chica roamed the room, posing for pictures. Through the sounds of voices, of children laughing, of the upbeat music playing over the speakers, Caleb thought he heard Freddy's deep laugh in distance.

Left of the doors were the bathrooms, and behind the it kitchen. Adjacent to them, separated by a staff corridor, was the maintenance room. At the end of the corridor was the office. Right of the doors was another corridor, wider, and on one side of it was the arcade, on the other were three party rooms.

Caleb wandered around, chatting with customers occasionally. He saw Lewis, the day shift guard, wander around in his security guard outfit, surveying the scene, moving from room to room. Caleb wasn't certain, but he thought he saw Lewis's eyes linger on him briefly.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and Caleb turned around.

"We need to talk," John said. His skin was pale and his tone grim. He gestured for Caleb to follow him. He led Caleb away from everyone else and into the office.

"What's up?"

"One of the old animatronics is missing."

"What?"

"It's one of our oldest, second only to Golden Freddy. Fred Fazbear had him built awhile before the old diner went bankrupt. When the company got revived, we put him in a safe room. Very few people know about him. He was meant to be a hybird between animatronic and human mascot. My old manager always said he was like a precursor to Bonnie."

Caleb recalled something he had seen in the secret room in the old building. In the opened crate, a yellow suit, tattered and worn.

"Here, I have a picture of it," John said, handing him a photograph.

It was an old black and white photo. A man in trousers and a white shirt stood next to a tall mascot. Unlike the animatronics of today, it had five fingers instead of three. It's head and body were more rounded, but the ears and patterns on the suits were identical to that of the Bonnie Caleb knew. It even had a similar face. Caleb couldn't tell, but he suspected that it's color was yellow.

John then handed him another photograph. This one was in color, but it featured the same suit. But it was different. Part's of the torso had been ripped off, and it's head had been opened at the jaw. The entire suit was drenched in a red substance. But what was most disturbing was what was behind the face of that suit. A crushed, bloody mess with empty eye sockets. A mess that had once been a human head.


	8. Chapter 8

Caleb was walking down a dark corridor, his footsteps echoing. He tried to call out, but the sound stuck in his throat. There was a mirror on the wall next to him. Caleb looked at his own reflection, opened his mouth, and froze. His tongue was gone! As were his teeth. In fact, his entire mouth seemed to be nothing but a huge black void into nothing.

Then there was a laugh. A deep, rumbling laugh that shook the corridor. The mirror fell and shattered. Caleb saw light out of the corner of his eye. He turned around. At the end of the corridor, the room opened into an office filled with light. He walked toward it. He wanted to run into the safety of the light, but he couldn't. Then he frooze again. Out of each vent, two eyes glowed, staring at him. Caleb could see no body or head or face. Just the eyes.

Then it came for him, and he woke up screaming.

"Get it off, get it off!" he yelled, thrashing around in his bed. He tumbled to the floor, tangled in his blankets. He stood up, panting. Then his breath slowed.

"I'm okay," he said to himself, "I'm okay. I'm okay."

* * *

Jesus Caleb," Luke said, frowning, "You look half-dead."

"I'm okay," Caleb said sleepily, "Just a bad dream."

"Alright guys," John said, walking into the office, "I got the case file for the murders and-"

he stopped when he saw Caleb.

"I know, I'm a fucking corpse," Caleb told him, managing a weak smile.

"What the hell happened to you?" John asked, sitting down.

"Bad dream," Caleb replied, "Couldn't get any sleep."

"You wanna talk about it?" Luke offered.

"I'm good thanks," Caleb replied," Except..."

"What is it?" John asked.

"I saw it," Caleb told them both, "That animatronic. The hybird. It was covered in blood, ad it's eye sockets were empty."

"Hold on a minute," Luke said, frowning, "What's this 'hybird'?"

"Here," said John, drawing out the two photographs from his briefcase and handing them to Luke.

"Christ," Luke said, "That's... that's fucked up."

John took the photographs back, then turned to Caleb. "So did it do anything?"

"Huh?"

"In your dream. Did it do anything?"

"It, just... rushed at me," Caleb told him, "I saw two eyes looking out of a vent in some kind of office, then suddenly that hybird was lunging at me and I woke up screaming."

John frowned, scratching at his chin.

"You said there was a vent? So were you in the office?"

"No," replied Caleb, "The office didn't have a door. I was standing outside."

"No door? Hmm, that's odd. One of our old locations was like that. Back in '87, when the Bite happened."

"I've never been to that location," Caleb told him, "How would I know the place?"

John sighed. "I don't know. We should check the place out some time. The place has been is ruins for years."

* * *

"Oh fuck me," Luke groaned when they pulled up at the building, "This looks like some haunted house bullshit."

"It's empty, trust me,' John assured me.

"How can you be sure?" asked Caleb, "There could be anyone in there."

"I purchased the building when our revenue skyrocketed. I put locks on all the doors and windows, and I check it every day if I can. If someone was in there, I'd know."

The wind was blowing hard, sending rubbish scattering as they walked across the tiny parking lot to the entrance. Luke wasn't kidding: the place screamed "Serial killers" at anyone who looked it's way.

The interior was dark has hell, with a few rays of light shining in through the cracks of the boarded up windows. Caleb felt something crunching under his boot.

"Here," John said, handing flashlight to Caleb and Luke. Search the place, and yell if you need help."

Caleb shined his light down, and saw that he had stepped on an old plate with the old Freddy's logo, shattering it. The walls that may have once been white were now grey, with the blue and red tiles falling onto the floor.

The place was just as decrepit as the siege building. the walls were bare, their contents have fallen off with time. Bits of paper and small square tiles lined the hallways. Suddenly, Caleb stopped.

"What is it?" asked John, stopping next to him.

"This is the hallway," Caleb replied.

"You sure?" Luke asked.

"Positive."

He rounded the corner, and saw it; the office. It was as dark as the rest of the place, but it was the same room. The desk, vent. It was all the same. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust, and rubbish was strewn everywhere. Caleb shined his light into the vent, and saw that it bent into an L shape.

"Where do these vents lead?" Caleb asked John.

"They lead to two of the party rooms," John replied, walking over, "They were meant to serve as a fail-safe in case the doors to the rooms got blocked."

"Hey," Luke said, pointing, "What's that?"

There was something metal pointing around the corner.

"Looks like an endoskeleton part," John said, frowning. He reached into the vent and grasped the object.

Then it scrambled out of the vent.

"What the hell is that?!" Luke yelled as the thing crawled out and scurried into the corner.

"Is that an animatronic?" Caleb asked, peering at the mangle of parts in the corner of the room.

If it was an animatronic, then it was the most deformed one Caleb had ever seen. It's legs were too far from it's body, almost doubling it's length. Two heads protruded from atop it's shoulders. One of them was bare or any covering, but the other had a plaster fox's head hiding the ugly mass of metal beneath.

"Is that _Foxy?" _Luke said, his eyes widening.

The animatronic let out a distorted growling sound.

"We can't leave this thing here," said Caleb, "John, you got a box for this thing?"

"Nope," John said, taking a step away from the Foxy-like thing in front of him.

"John, what the hell is this thing?" Luke asked, his eyes on Foxy.

"This," John replied, "is what happens when you let toddlers near an electronic. We tried to remake Foxy along with the rest of him. But we'd have to put him back together every night. Eventually we just left him."

John took a slow step toward Foxy, but stepped back when he growled.

"Let me," Caleb said, stepping forward, his hands help up. Foxy's head snapped to Caleb, and he let out a slow growl. Caleb stopped and let Foxy survey him. After a few moments, Caleb stepped forward again. Foxy raised himself up on his hind legs so that he towered menacingly over the three of them.

"Why should I trust you," he said in a rasping voice, "when you are with him?"

He pointed at John.

"i don't understand," Caleb said.

"He left me," Foxy hissed, contempt in his voice, "Do you know how painful it is to have your endoskeleton exposed to the dirt and filth you humans leave behind? I was ripped apart and left on a filthy floor for years!"

"John didn't know," said Luke, "He only knew you guys were alive a few months ago!"

"And yet I remained here to rot!" Foxy replied.

"I had other priorities!" said John, stepping in front of Foxy, "You don't know what's been going on out there!"

"Then enlighten me," Foxy replied with obvious skepticism.

John sat down and recounted everything. He explained how Mike Schmidt had been killed by Freddy. How the police had investigated the pizzeria. How Walter Schmidt had sent Luke and two other to track him down. How they had discovered the old animatronics in the secret room.

"Springtrap?" Foxy said, surprise in his voice, "You found Springtrap?"

"That's what you call him?" Luke asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Well... yeah," Foxy replied as if the question was stupid, "Makes sense, right?"

"Back to the point," John interrupted, "Walter Schmidt want's Luke's head delivered to him, and he's the leader of the most powerful crime gang in the state. Even worse, those old animatronics are killers biding their time, and we need as much help as we can get. I don't have anything to offer you, but I know I'd want to do something other than fall apart in a vent."

Foxy looked down at John for almost a full minute before replying.

"Get rid of this bloody second head, and you have a deal."


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys. I'm so sorry for the long update. I would have gotten onto it sooner, but school's been hectic and I'm all out of whack. Thank you guys so much for your patience and I hope to be updating more regularly soon. **

That winter brought hard thunderstorms, giving Freddy Fazbear's Pizza a depressing atmosphere after hours. Caleb, John, Luke and the animatronics had almost nothing to do when they met up at night. William was still taking the night shift, and would say hello. He'd long since gotten used to the animatronics walking of their own accord. They didn't tell him about everything that was happening, however. There was no need to worry him about any of that... yet.

Mangle and Foxy's practice fights only added to the gloom; a constant reminder of things to come. The idea of facing Mike Schmidt's brother, combined with the constant threat of killer animatronics, made Caleb feel sick to his stomach from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep.

And yet, Caleb was downright terrified of what would happen after it blew over. If he was dead, then that was that, even though that thought frightened him too. But what if he survived this hell? What would he do then? When John had confessed to burying Mike Schmidt deep in the woods, Caleb knew things would never go back to how they were. Not when he knew what he knew. Could he even go back to a normal life, given everything he had learned?

And then there were the questions. So many questions that might never be answered. The animatronics were clearly alive, and some of them were out their, waiting for the moment to end his life. Why? What created them? It was enough to drive a man mad.

Winter raged on, giving the place a chill, even with the heaters on. Nobody could understand it. The number of customers began to decline, and word got out that conditions at the pizzeria were getting unbearable.

"We're trying to work it out," John said to the press when they started badgering him, "The heaters are on full blast, and we're getting some portable ones within the week. The place should be warm again soon."

The pizzeria closed for a weekend to install the new heaters, and they had the place mostly to themselves. Luke was getting impatient. He wouldn't sit down at all. Instead, he would pace furiously back and forth.

"I'm sick of this goddamned waiting!" he snapped when John finally got sick of it and told him to stop. John didn't say a word to Luke for the rest of the weekend.

Not until Sunday night, at least.

* * *

Usually, the phone in the office never rang, leaving the office silent except for the hum of the heater. So when it did ring, John almost jumped out of his seat.

"Hello?" he said after regaining his composure and picking up the phone.

"I've got information on Schmidt's activities," the voice on the other end said. John noted the deepness of it; it must have been one of those things to disguise your voice.

"Who is this?" John said, sitting up from his tired, slouched position in the chair.

"That isn't important," the deep voice replied, "What is important is that I have information regarding Walter Schmidt's plans for you and the others."

"What?" John said, struggling to process this, "What do you mean?"

The voice sighed, and said, "Let me explain everything you need to know; I have my own irrelevant reasons for wanting Schmidt's crime group out of the picture, which means we have a common enemy. I have assets at my disposal that could help you greatly, but you must meet me in person."

"Why?" asked John.

"You do have a brain, yes? So use it. This line isn't secure. Anyone could be listening in on this conversation."

"Okay," said John, feeling rather foolish, "Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Give this message to Luke; I can be found at the place that changed his life forever."

"I don't understand."

"Luke will know what it means. Bring him with you. He can vouch for us."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" John asked the person, who scoffed.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have bombed your pizzeria already."

All John heard after that was a click.

* * *

John had to take a few minutes to process it all before confronting Luke.

"What's up?" Luke said, entering the office.

"I got a call earlier," John explained, "From someone who claims to have information on how Walter Schmidt plans to move on us."

"What?" Luke replied, "How can you be sure?"

"Truth be told, I can't" admitted John, "But there's something else. He mentioned you in the phone call."

Luke frowned. "What did he say?"

"He said that we can find him at the place and time that changed your life forever."

Luke's eyebrows shot up, and he said nothing for a moment.

"W-who is he?" he asked.

"I don't know, he disguised his voice. But he says he has reasons for wanting Schmidt out of the picture."

He stopped, and looked at Mike with a I-need-answers sort of face.

"The anniversary of my parent's death is two days from now," he said, "They were killed at our house near Los Angeles, where I was rescued by Mike and Walter Schmidt. They were in a gang with my father."

John couldn't hide his surprise. He swore.

"Christ Luke. I had no idea."

"It's okay. I was going to tell you when I was comfortable with it."

"Luke, before you left the gang, did you know anyone who wanted to move against Walter?"

"Schmidt treated most of the people who worked for him like absolute shit," Luke said, "And he's got God-knows how much money. Anyone would want to take him out. I'm surprised it hasn't happened already. If this guy is one of his lieutenants, than he could be a big help."

"Then I'm going," John said, standing up.

"John.." Luke began.

"I understand if you don't want to go, Luke," John said, "So you only have to give me the address."

"It's not that," Luke assured him, "For all we know, this guy could give us up to Walter."

"It's a risk we have to take, Luke," John said, "We can't afford for another siege to happen. We're getting too much undue attention as it is."

Luke looked puzzled. Then John remembered he didn't listen to the news.

"The media's still putting the spotlight on us. It's not good, Luke. If Schmidt sends another three guys to terrorize our customers, then we're in deep shit."

The debate was over; Luke couldn't argue there. If Freddy's went under, he'd be screwed too.

"I hope you're right about this, John."

* * *

Luke and John set out for Los Angles the next day. John rarely ventured into the city; he had everything he needed out in the small town where Freddy's was based. If they ever went ahead with opening up elsewhere, he'd probably have to come back. He hated cities; the enormous crowds, shitty traffic, and pollution made the city feel like a haven for evil.

Thankfully, Luke's family had lived just outside of the city, in a cheap house in the hills. Luke had explained that the house was a shithole even when he lived there, but John knew it hadn't aged well. Rubbish was strewn around the tiny yard, which might have once been green grass, but it was now just an ugly shade of brownish-yellow. The windows were boarded up, and a portion of the roof had collapsed into itself.

The front door, however, was wide open. Luke frowned.

"There might be someone in there," he whispered, drawing his gun from the waistband of his jeans. He stepped up to the porch, and stood at one end of the door, while John stood across from him.

_See anyone?, _John mouthed. Luke peaked inside; the dilapidated hallway was empty, apart from a few planks of wood and pieces of rubbish.

Luke gave a small shake of his head, and John stepped around the door and into the hallway, his head swiveling around to check the living room and dining room. It was a gruesome place; there were blood stains in several places. On the floor, by the open cupboard door. But what made John sick the most was the broken window in the dining room; most of the glass had been smashed out onto the porch, but the glass that remained had the unmistakable tint of dried blood.

The floorboards in the hallway creaked, and John whirled around in time to see the front door open, and someone step out.

"Don't move!" John called out. The stranger froze in the act of stepping into the hallway, and all John saw was one foot clad in a black leather boot.

"I'm not here for trouble!" the newcomer said back.

"Step out from behind the door!" John demanded, raising his gun. The man stepped out, his hands up to show he was unarmed. He was an older man, maybe mid-forties or so. His hair was graying at the sides, and he had a weary look in his eyes, eyes that went wide.

"Luke?" He said, "Is that you?"

"Daniel?" Luke whispered, his jaw dropping.

Before John could interrupt, two black cars pulled up outside. There was the sound of doors opening.

"All three of you drop your weapons are step onto the porch!" A voice yelled, amplified by what seemed to be a megaphone.

"Shit!" the man called Daniel said.

He turned to John and Luke with a sad look in his eyes and said, "Guys, I'm so sorry."


	10. Chapter 10

**Before I begin this chapter, I want to address the lack of regular updates for this story and my 'War of Westeros' story. I won't make any excuses this time. I've allowed myself to get sidetracked and neglected to even work on my stories, both fanfics and originals. The truth is, I'm trying to get things in order in my life, and hopefully I can get into a regular schedule before this story ends. I appreciate everyone who has stuck by me since I first uploaded my Assassin's Creed story on here, and I appreciate everyone who has been patient enough to continue reading. I hope that I can bring my writing ability up to scratch in order to do these stories justice.**

* * *

"Ow!" Foxy yelled, jumping back and looking at the dent marks on his wrist.

"Don't blame me," Mangle replied, exasperated, "Try a moronic move like that again and you'll end up with more than dent marks."

Freddy had disliked Mangle from the get-go. How could an animatronic, created to spread joy and kindness, be so cold, cynical and unforgiving? Then again, Freddy recalled that something had been off with those toy animtronics. It wasn't his fault, Fredddy decided. It was probably in his nature to be cold. Suddenly, he didn't feel much dislike towards Mangle anymore. He certainly wasn't how Freddy remembered him, full of death and suffering like those other plastic contraptions.

"Let's say it's Springtrap who comes after you next," Mangle was telling Foxy, "Or one of those toy animatronics. They're not going to play nice and let you recover. You need to brush it off and get back on the attack before they can get on the attack.

"Remember, Foxy, your speed is the your best ally in a fight. So use it."

Mangle lunged again, and this time Foxy ducked and let Mangle fly over him before jumping up and drop-kicking Mangle in the back. Bonnie and Chica cheered.

"Well it's a start," Mangle said, "Okay, that's enough for now. Bonnie, you're next."

"Bad news, guys," said Caleb, coming out from the office. John and Luke are in trouble."

"Where are they?" asked an alarmed Chica.

"Just outside Los Angeles," Caleb replied, "John called me from his cell phone a few minutes ago. I'm going over to rescue them."

"What's that?" Bonnie asked, pointing at the long package under Caleb's arm.

"New toy," Caleb told him, "Just hold down the place until William gets here tonight. Mangle, go easy on them."

Mangle gave a shrug. "Can you put my head in properly when you get back?" he asked, pointing at his head. The endoskeleton head refused to fit into the suit.

"Stop whining," said Caleb before leaving.

* * *

Across town, at the silent building that was once Freddy Fazbear's pizza, someone dressed in black picked the lock on the back door.

"Hurry up," one of the two men behind him hissed.

"I'm going as fast as I can, sir."

"Well go faster!"

"There," the man said, "It's open."

The door creaked open, and the last rays of sunlight gave the interior of the building a shady look."

"Thomas," the second man said, "take point."

The man with a scar running through his eye entered the building, his rifle up, flashlight on. He shone it around the chairs and tables scattered around the dining room, onto the old stage and down the hallways, and into the secret room that only a select few knew about.

"Clear," he said, and his companions followed him in. The second man peered inside.

"The rest are there," Thomas said, "Just like you said, Mr Schmidt."

Walter Schmidt looked at him and smiled.

"Good work Thomas. You've earned a raise for this."

But afterwards, he frowned.

"But we still need my brother's remains. Only then can we right the wrong that was done to him."

"I thought you and your brother weren't speaking, sir," Thomas told him, "You even called him an asshole."

"He _was _an asshole," Schmidt admitted with a laugh, "But he's family, and you never abandon family. Even if he truely is gone, then I'll strive to avenge him instead."

He looked inside the room again, and the crates filled with the old animatronics, and said, "Whatever it takes."

* * *

"You've got one more chance!" yelled the voice, "Drop your weapons and step out onto the porch!"

"Under who's authority?" John shouted back. Daniel gave him an are-you-fucking-stupid look, but John ignored him.

Meanwhile the people outside were laughing.

"You think we need a warrant to come in there and spill blood, John?" said the man again, "Well guess what? We don't answer to anybody except Walter Schmidt."

"What does Schmidt want with us?" John called out. Daniel kept up with the look. Luke, however, got the point. He was stalling.

"Are you dumb, John?" the man replied, "You killed his brother and didn't even have the goddamn decency to let Mr Schmidt say his goodbyes. What kind of sick individual does that?"

"That's rich!" John said, peeking out the window, "It's your lot who decided to hold an entire building full of children hostage."

John got a good look at the man. His head was bald, and he wore black combat pants, boots, and vest.

"Collateral damage," he said with a shrug.

"Bullshit!" John yelled.

"You've had enough warnings," the megaphone guy said, "We're coming in!"

"Not if Walter Schmidt wants his brother's body back!" John yelled at him, "If you come in here, we'll fight, and you'll have to kill us. And then how will Walter say his goodbyes?

"Now do exactly as I say, and I'll give you Schmidt's burial location. If you come in here, then Walter's not gonna be happy with the result!"

* * *

Three hours later, and Megaphone Man's patience was drying up.

"Cut the bullshit!" he shouted, "If you think you're able to dick us around until we give up, then think again! Now get on that porch or we'll break the damn door down!"

"You don't wanna do that!" John said, stepping in front of the window and raising the gun to his head. Daniel and Caleb hung back. They knew the plan.

"Take another step," John warned, "and you lose your only chance to get Walter his brother's corpse!"

"I've had enough of this!" Megaphone Man shouted, "Bring 'em in, boys!"

BANG! 

Megaphone Man went down, his brains splattering all over the ground. The rest of the men scattered. John whistled in delight.

"Cavalry's arrived," he told the others, "Let's move!"

They took out as many armed men as they could, while running to the safety of Caleb's car. Caleb was already in the driver's seat, and sped off when John was inside. Luke and Daniel took the other car. 

"Thanks," John wheezed, "I owe you." 

"Don't mention it," Caleb said, "Was the information good?"

"Yeah," John said, "I think it was!" 


End file.
